Their own enemy
by Elie.N.P
Summary: She had been so sure seconds ago, so certain she'd choose them over him, then why, why couldn't she still say it? Her mind couldn't have changed so quickly, could it? No, it was illogical, impossible, it was- Draco/Hermione one-shot


**This is a Draco Hermione one-shot set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows obviously it's nevertheless AU because of their pairing. **

**I apologise for the mistakes, I'm not a native English speaker and even if I do my best I have still a long way to go =)**

**Enjoy your reading! **

**And remember that a review always makes an author smile =]**

**Elie**

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><p><span>Their own enemy<span>

Hermione gritted her teeth not to scream. He was leaving their side, her side, to the devil's.

Draco quickly glanced at her, not willing to leave her, not willing to be away from her, to be where he'd not be able to protect her, unable to stand between her and the ones who belonged to the same side as his.

He'd like to stay with her, to support Potter, to support freedom, but he couldn't. If his father had called him, he might have refused to obey, but it was his mother's request.

Draco clenched his fists. He couldn't go against his mother's demand. He simply couldn't, and he knew, when his eyes met Hermione's, that she somehow understood. She was neither angry nor disappointed, proud almost, he dared say, to see the importance his family – even if it concerned only his mother – had to him. She was, above all, sad. He could see the torment she was in through her eyes.

Hermione would let him leave. She wouldn't hold him back, because she was no opponent to Narcissa Malfoy, like Draco was no opponent to her own family either.

They both were well aware of it. Whatever their feelings were for each other, they'd always hold the second place, always be behind their respective families. They'd acknowledged it a long time ago, and yet, it still hurt.

She knew Draco might be called to the Dark Lord's side sooner or later. She'd rather have had it later, much later, although more time wouldn't have changed anything, getting things worse even, for the more time she spent with him, the less she was willing to part with him.

Hermione had to bite her lower lip not to cry out his name. She craved to hold him back, to defy Narcissa's word, indeed, she craved to be the first one in Draco's heart.

She bit her lip harder. How could such a selfish idea even cross her mind? How could she ask something from him she knew she'd herself be unable to do if they switched position? She hated that, she hated herself right now but couldn't stop hoping.

She'd hope until the last second, until she saw him take his place among the Dark Lord's followers, until then, there was still a chance for him to come back to her, to turn his back to his mother...

Blood flowed, her skin had yielded to the assault of her teeth. She was loathsome. How could she dare... She shook her head. She was worse than the Devil itself.

Would she turn her back to her parents to stay by Draco's side? Of course not, she would... Of course? Really? She had been so sure seconds ago, so certain she'd choose them over him, then why, why couldn't she still say it? Her mind couldn't have changed so quickly, could it? No, it was illogical, impossible, it was-

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. Her mind hadn't just changed, for it'd changed long ago, days, weeks, months ago, when she'd fully accepted her love for him. When her heart had taken the upper hand, when her sense had yielded to her sensibility, then Draco had become the most important person to her.

Treacherous tears ran down her cheeks, undisturbed by the barrier her eyelids should have made.

Her family, her parents, the people who had raised her, who had always loved her, always supported her, they were now holding the second place, dethroned by a man who had enjoyed mocking her, hurting her. A man all her friends hated, a man she'd also used to hate.

Such a man was now the true master of her heart. Draco Malfoy owned her, body and soul.

Hermione could remember there first night as if it'd only been the day before. It'd been a night full of passion, of desire, at first hesitant then totally freed of all reserve when love had overcome their last doubts.

With that night, their secret story had taken another step, had become more serious, more dangerous too, for they couldn't let anyone discover their being in love and, at the same time found it more and more difficult to stay away from each other.

Unfortunately, they were condemned to secrecy.

If they knew, their respective friends would certainly call their sanity into question.

If Hermione betrayed their secret now, in the middle of the battlefield, they were dead. They wouldn't die by her friends' hands, but by the Dark Lord's, it was a certainty. His wrath, his disgust wouldn't possibly be restrained if he witnessed a pure-blood and a muggle-born being in love.

Draco had to join his mother's side. He had to, if he wanted to live, if he wanted both of them to live.

And to ensure their safety herself, Hermione had to keep her mouth shut, tightly.

The taste of blood was making her retch. She wouldn't last long in such a state of distress. She both wanted her torment to end and dreaded it.

Because once he'd have joined his mother, once he'd be among the other Death Eaters. The '_us, we, our_' they'd created wouldn't be any more.

Their relationship would disappear in a second, their long-drawn-out job destroyed in several minutes, their heart broken forever.

She dug her nails in her palms. She didn't want them to be separated. It was gruesomely selfish, but she couldn't help it.

Draco had to use every ounce of his self-control not to run to Hermione. He had stopped midway between both clans, his back turned to the two women of his life, he was facing the Dark Lord and the supposed-to-be-dead Harry Potter.

He was facing them, weighing the options he had. To keep walking and joining the former, or to step back to be with Hermione, to fight for freedom.

Freedom, the idea was so tempting. If the Dark Lord wasn't any more, then they could be together, they'd have to face their friends, but it wouldn't be life-threatening, contrary to what He-who-must-not-be-named had in store for such traitors as they were.

He clenched his fists, mirroring Hermione's previous action.

He'd keep walking, as heartbreaking as it was, for his favourite other option wasn't available. If he took only one step back, he wouldn't go anywhere but straight in her arms, and then everything would be lost.

Hermione's life would be lost and that, Draco would never allow it to happen. If his walking to the Dark Lord's side could save her life, then he'd do it.

Besides, unlike everybody else, Draco had seen the corpse moving.

Harry Potter wasn't dead. All lost hadn't disappeared yet.

If he joined the Death Eaters, it was only his future which he destroyed – the Magical society would never forgive him, but if he stepped back, he'd also destroy Hermione's.

His choice was made.

He felt his heart break in two as he took his first step to his downfall. His sole regret was not to have had the opportunity to tell her he wasn't going to the Dark Lord for his mother, but for her, for her safety, because she'd owned for a long time now the first place in his heart.

He realised it now. If Narcissa had still been the most important person to him, he wouldn't have stopped at all. His hesitation was all he needed to understand that Hermione was the sole and true master of him. Perhaps it was better she remained ignorant. Thinking he was preferring her his mother, she'd be able to move on, to forget that man who had dared not to choose her.

He took his place next to his mother, biting his lips to blood not to cry out her name. He had to restrain himself, he wouldn't condemn her to death. He loved her too much to think of anybody else but her. He'd suppress his own desires for her, and only for her.

Hermione hid herself behind Ron. She couldn't bear to see him leaving.

Draco'd chosen his family over her. She shouldn't be surprised, she wasn't surprised, but her heart hurt like hell.

Her heart was forever broken.

How stupid they were, both suffering alone, believing the other would soon stop to care, when their pains perfectly matched and would never stop to exist as long as their owners wouldn't be reunited again.

War made victims of every kind.

There were the dead, the injured, the people who lost everything. There were the cowards too, people who would hide to avoid punishment for their acts, the self-willed people who kept on supporting the loser's beliefs even if it cost them their liberty, their status in society.

And there were those the war had separated, the ones whose wounds were invisible to the others' eyes, deeply scarring their heart, ceaselessly tormenting their soul.

Those who would never believe in a bright future any more.

Those who lost hope when they lost their other half.

Those two beings, once separated by the war, were now kept apart by the victory.

Happiness was everywhere around them, admittedly, but nowhere near to reach them.

As long as they wouldn't meet, their life would be deprived of everything but pain.

Pain and grief.

Stupid, wasn't it? To keep being away from each other when the worst threat above them had disappeared. But how could they know, in their sheer suffering, that it might be possible for them to be together now? How could they know when they were so exhausted and blinded by their sorrow?

They simply couldn't.

Threats had really existed, but the worst enemy their relationship had to face was, in fact, closer to them that they had ever thought.

Staying away from each other, not trying to meet, fleeing every time they could have had such an opportunity, yielding to fears which weren't justified any more.

_They_ were themselves the murderers of their love.

**The End**


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